


That Which Will Not Be Forgotten

by fractalgeometry



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalgeometry
Summary: Everything hurt. He was trapped. He was trapped, and he could never, ever escape.A voice filtered into his consciousness. “You’re safe, love, you’re home, it’s just me-”“Aziraphale,” he said, and his voice cracked.~Aziraphale is off on a book-buying adventure, and Crowley decides to make some mischief while he's gone. Only problem is, it goes south and digs up some memories that Crowley wouldreally preferstayed buried. Luckily, Aziraphale gets home shortly thereafter and makes sure he's okay.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 204
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	That Which Will Not Be Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> I originally had this idea at the same time as my "Crowley has a run-in with animal control" story. Official animal control doesn't get involved in this one, but it does involve the theme of humans being way less scared of certain things (*cough* giant snakes *cough*) than it seems like they should be. Angst and cuddles ensue.

Aziraphale was out of town. Aziraphale was out of town, and Crowley was home at the cottage by himself. He’d lived alone for years, centuries, millennia even, but now, three days into Aziraphale’s absence, he was getting bored. Oh, he’d be more bored if he’d decided to go along, probably, since Aziraphale was off at a book auction in a town that somehow managed to be even smaller than theirs, but that didn’t change the fact that he was bored.

So really, what was there to do but go out and make some mischief? It was his go-to amusement, and he’d really been behind on the mischief-making recently. Not that he had any requirements to be behind _on,_ but it was the principle of the thing. 

He was also bored, and dangerously close to lonely, and the only thing that sounded distracting enough was really going all-out on something dramatic. 

Five minutes later, a nine-foot-long black snake slithered down the country street toward the middle of town. When the first human saw him, shrieked, and dropped the box he was holding, Crowley flicked his tongue out in satisfaction and moved on. He was feeling better already.

When the first stick poked him, it felt like it had popped the balloon of satisfaction that had been growing ever since that first shriek. Crowley hissed and curled away from the poke, putting as much menace into the sound as he could. 

He was near the middle of town now, and had attracted a suitably loud and worried-sounding group of humans. The tone was changing, though, away from “worried” and toward “boisterous”, and Crowley didn’t like it one bit. Especially when another stick poked him from a different side, and he realized that the loud humans had surrounded him remarkably thoroughly. He really should have remembered their penchant for mob mentality. Curse his impulsivity.

Crowley hissed again, rearing up and taking some pleasure in how it made some of them fall back a few steps. It wasn’t far enough, though. Something had gone wrong several minutes ago, and he wasn’t sure how to undo the damage. 

Then something grabbed his tail, and Crowley _panicked._

Which is to say, he yanked his tail from the grasp of whatever it was while hissing fearsomely in its direction, then bolted straight at the nearest opening in the circle, forgetting to check his speed to something arguably mortal. He wanted nothing more than to get _away,_ right now, no other considerations. 

He practically flew down the streets to his and Aziraphale’s cottage, shifting back to human form as he got to the door. Inside he paused, remembering quite suddenly that he was the only one there, Aziraphale still being off at his book auction. 

_Good,_ he thought savagely, since anger was the only thing strong enough to push aside the stupid panic for even a second. 

He and Aziraphale had talked about many things in the time since the world didn’t end. They had worked through as many of those things as they could. And there were still some things that had never come up.

So it was good that Aziraphale wasn’t back yet. Crowley could deal with this on his own, have it all blown over by the time he had to see anyone else. 

He turned on his heel and stalked out to terrorize the garden. 

~

Crowley was berating a rose bush with all the force of his demonic fury when he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and swiveled, tensing. It was just a mail carrier, riding past on a bike. Seeing him look at her, she waved.

Crowley tried to breathe. He tried to turn his eyes back to the roses — which were _far_ too small, really — and take up the thread of his monologue again. He tried- but he suddenly couldn’t breathe, and the words weren’t coming, and the mail carrier was long past but he couldn’t- he _couldn’t._

He made a beeline for the house, somehow ending up in the bedroom, so he kicked off his shoes and dumped his sunglasses on the table and climbed onto the bed, trying to get away from the thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone, pulling the covers around him like a shell, closing his eyes, trying to get away, trying to get _away._

He couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t. He never would. The thoughts, the _memories,_ would always chase him. 

Crowley shivered, and it was like the cap opened on a bottle of soda that had been shaken too much, because the shiver was followed by another, and another, until he was shaking nonstop. He lay down, curling up with his knees to his chest, like a snake trying to protect itself. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Why now? Why ever again?

He pulled the covers over his head, blocking out the light. It made it better and worse, but his mind wasn’t clear enough to decide which. 

He stayed buried. It was easier than moving again. He stayed buried in the covers, trying to breathe in the familiar smells woven into the fabric and fight off the thoughts and the panic and the shakes that just _wouldn’t leave._

Eventually, he fell asleep.

~

_It hurt. He was trapped. The grip was like a vice, a band of pressure, keeping him there, keeping him trapped._

_Each blow hurt. Every poke and hit. He could have fought back. Everyone fought back. It’s why everything was this way._

_He couldn’t do it anymore. He wished they would ignore him, leave him to misery in a corner, let him run._

_They wouldn’t. Instead everything hurt, and he was trapped. He couldn’t move, he could only feel every attack._

_He wanted to whimper, but demons didn’t whimper. He wanted to hide, but he was trapped. He wanted to- he wanted to…_

_Everything hurt. He was trapped. He was trapped, and he could never, ever escape._

His hand — his real hand — brushed something firm. He flinched away on instinct, curling close around himself. 

_Pain, fear, danger-_

A voice filtered into his consciousness. There was something familiar about it, something that didn’t feel like fear. He reached out again, fingers brushing the firm thing. It was warm. 

_Aziraphale. Why was Aziraphale here, how did he get here, no, no, they couldn’t hurt Aziraphale, no-_

He clawed at the thickness stifling him, shoving it aside, trying to breathe, trying to feel. 

“Crowley, Crowley, it’s all right, I’m here,” he heard from somewhere nearby, but no, it wasn’t all right, it couldn’t be all right, why was Aziraphale here, this was awful-

“You’re safe, love, you’re home, it’s just me-"

_Home. Aziraphale._

Crowley struggled forward, half-awake now, finding Aziraphale’s leg stretched out next to him and clutching at it desperately, wrapping himself around it.

“Aziraphale,” he said, and his voice cracked on something very close to a sob.

“Yes, dear, it’s me.”

 _“Aziraphale,”_ he said again, gripping Aziraphale’s leg as though it would disappear if he let go.

A hand landed on his shoulder, heavy, pressing down, _trapping him he was trapped he couldn’t-_

He flinched, curling into a tighter ball as though he could hide. 

The weight vanished. Then he felt the lightest brush of fingers against his upper back, circling, stroking, grounding, never pushing, never hurting, so gentle, so careful…

He focused on that touch, that oh-so-gentle touch, and the warmth of Aziraphale’s leg in his arms, and the dim light that he was now starting to be able to see through the haze of panic. He stayed there as the world came into focus, and he started to remember that he wasn’t back there, where everything hurt and he was trapped, he was here, at home, with Aziraphale. Aziraphale, who wasn’t supposed to have to deal with this. Aziraphale, who undoubtedly had no idea what was happening right now, and yet he was still here, letting Crowley cling to him like a scared koala.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, and oh, apparently he was still on the verge of a breakdown.

“Whatever for?” Aziraphale asked, sounding honestly surprised.

“Making you deal with this,” Crowley said miserably. Clingy, and yet somehow he couldn’t let go, because the dream had been _so real,_ and it _hurt,_ and-

“Oh, my _love,”_ Aziraphale said, and the tone of his voice made a sob catch in Crowley’s throat. “There is _no reason_ for you to be sorry.”

And Crowley broke. The sobs that had been holding back came bubbling up, and he couldn’t _stop_ them, but Aziraphale was there, and he was murmuring quietly, and there were no harsh words and no harsh touches, only the soft sound of Aziraphale’s voice and the equal softness of his fingers on Crowley’s back.

After a minute Crowley squirmed up the bed to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s torso, burying his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder and tangling their legs together. 

“Is it all right if I hold you?” Aziraphale asked, still so quiet and so gentle.

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale slid his arms around Crowley’s back, one hand reaching up to cup his shoulder, the other arm encircling his waist. Aziraphale’s grip was firm and grounding, pressing him gently down into the hug. It was firm, and pressing him down, but Crowley knew he could shake it off in a second, slide out of the hold and run far, far away. 

He could. So he didn’t.

Instead he pressed his face further into Aziraphale’s shoulder and sniffled through the end of his crying spree. He wasn’t sure what to do next. Whenever he had gotten this kind of nightmare in the past there had never been anyone around to see it. He fought it off, growled at the plants, on really bad occasions did a bit of screaming and crying, and moved on with his life. But this time Aziraphale was here, and had talked to him and hugged him, and would probably want an explanation.

But Aziraphale didn’t ask for an explanation, even after Crowley had swallowed the last of his sniffles and they were sitting there in silence. He didn’t loosen his hold, silently suggesting Crowley move on and get out of his way. He just stayed there, hugging Crowley and waiting.

Finally Crowley shifted, loosening his arms and turning his head so he could look at Aziraphale. Aziraphale let his arms slide partway off of Crowley and looked back.

“Back with me, dear?” he asked softly.

“I think so,” Crowley said. He felt almost wobbly, which had never happened before. Maybe it had something to do with the crying. “I guess you want to know what happened.”

“I always want to know what’s wrong,” Aziraphale said. “But I only want you to tell me if you want to.”

Crowley didn’t want to. At the same time, he didn’t want to _not._ He sighed and slid down the bed to loosely wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, resting his cheek on Aziraphale’s stomach. Aziraphale’s hand started gently petting through his hair. After several minutes, he broke the silence.

“Got bored earlier. Went downtown as a snake, just for fun, you know. But then the humans got too interested, and they started poking me, and one of them _grabbed-”_ he broke off and shut his eyes, trying not to lose it again.

“And…?” Aziraphale said after a moment, encouragingly.

“Just...reminded me of stuff,” Crowley said faintly. “Bad memories. Ended up with nightmares. I think you saw that part.”

“Can you tell me any more?” Aziraphale asked. “Anything that I need to be careful of?”

“Nah,” Crowley said. “Not usually. Usually I’m fine. Just sometimes get caught off guard, and, well, I’ve got some more bad memories attached to the snake form. Early stuff, I guess. It was a bad time, early on. Everyone was hurting everybody else, and no one would leave me _alone-”_ his voice caught again. 

“Ah,” Aziraphale said quietly.

“Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“All right.”

“Is it morning?”

“I expect so.”

“Can we open the curtains? I don’t want to be in the dark.”

Aziraphale snapped, and the curtains drew aside, letting brilliant morning sun shine across the pair on the bed. It was calming, somehow, how blindingly bright it was. He had never been trapped in the light. 

Crowley closed his eyes and settled into the bed. Aziraphale shifted under him, but didn’t try to move away. 

Crowley didn’t go back to sleep, quite. He wasn’t sure he would for a few days, at least. He wasn’t ready for more nightmares. But he did let himself slip a little, settling into the sensations of Aziraphale, and the bed, and the little room in the little house in the little town that they had _chosen._ This place, their place, where they were far away from Heaven and Hell and everything else. 

~

Much later, after Crowley finally relinquished his hold on Aziraphale, and they got out of bed, and Aziraphale made tea while they both half-pretended it was a normal day, after they had settled themselves on Crowley’s favorite sofa without really talking about it, Aziraphale said, “Did I do all right?”

“What?” Crowley asked automatically. 

“Earlier,” Aziraphale clarified. “I didn’t know quite what to do, you see, so I just tried to help, but…”

“Oh,” Crowley said. “Yeah. Yeah, you did good. I wouldn’t’ve known what to do either, even if you’d asked me. Never really had someone around before.”

Aziraphale looked stricken. “Oh, Crowley.”

“Who would it have been?” Crowley asked, with a sad half-laugh. “I don’t exactly have a lot of friends.”

Aziraphale didn’t argue with that, and Crowley was grateful. It wasn’t really an arguable point. Just a fact. 

“I was frightened,” Aziraphale admitted, then continued before Crowley could apologize. “When I got back. At first I thought you were just sleeping, and you _were,_ but you were all curled up and you looked so afraid, even asleep. And I didn’t know what I should do, so I just sat down there and hoped you’d wake up.” He shuffled a little closer to Crowley, who draped an arm over his shoulders, resisting the urge to interrupt. 

“And then you _did,”_ Aziraphale continued, “but you were still scared, and I couldn’t even tell if you recognized me at first, and I just...kept trying to make you feel safer, but I didn’t know if it was working.” 

“It worked,” Crowley said. “And I _did_ recognize you, it’s just that at first I didn’t realize where we were and I thought- I thought something bad was happening to you too. And then I figured it out, but I couldn’t make my stupid fear-brain shut up.”

“Not stupid,” Aziraphale reminded him.

Crowley blew out an annoyed breath.

“My love,” Aziraphale said seriously, “I was afraid just looking at you, because it was so clear that something was wrong. You _may not_ argue that you shouldn’t have been frightened by experiencing whatever it was that was wrong.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Crowley mumbled. 

“I can try,” Aziraphale said, with a flash of humor. 

Crowley couldn’t help the tiny smile that came to his face. “Guess you can.” He sighed. “I don’t believe that, you know. Might not, for a long time. Can’t stop you from trying to tell me, though.”

“No, you can’t,” Aziraphale agreed. He laid his head on Crowley’s shoulder, and it felt _good_ to sit like this, as though Crowley were the one who was together and calm, and he was comforting Aziraphale. Not to mention the fact that Aziraphale had sounded more than a little sad when he was describing what he came home to, and though he wouldn’t let Crowley take responsibility for the sad, it seemed that he would let Crowley sit here with an arm around him. And if that kept them in contact, reminding Crowley over and over that he was safe, and he was with Aziraphale, and he was in _their_ place, on _their_ turf, that was a pleasant side effect.

“I’m glad I came home when I did,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t like to think of what would have happened if I hadn’t.”

“I’d have been fine,” Crowley said. He remembered years gone by, and hours spent curled up under whatever protective material he could find, trying to forget things that wouldn’t be forgotten.

There was a long pause.

“I’m glad too,” Crowley said, so quietly that he wondered if Aziraphale would hear it. 

“Good,” Aziraphale said. “That’s a start.”

It was a start. It was a start that Crowley could let happen, if he didn’t think about it too hard. He turned his head to rest against Aziraphale’s, inhaling gently and focusing on the touch.

He wouldn’t think about it too hard. 

**Author's Note:**

> This originally ended just after Aziraphale opened the curtains, but yesterday I had the idea for the last bit, wrote it, and decided I liked it. So here you have this. I hope you enjoyed it! Comments are very appreciated. I don't tend to write stuff that's quite this angsty (from my perspective, at least), so hearing people's thoughts would be awesome. :)


End file.
